Transfigured Hearts 17: The Age Old Question
by MrsTater
Summary: With Tonk still recovering from serious injuries, and the Order flung into chaos by the war, is now the best time for Remus to make his true feelings known? For himself, he has everything to gain, but for her, can that exceed how much there is to lose?


_This story follows **Meet the Parents** in **the Transfigured Hearts** series, and is set after chapter thirty-six of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Thanks to **Anki**, beta extraordinaire. _

* * *

**The Age-Old Question**

"How did it happen?" Tonks asked softly, before Remus had taken his seat beside her hospital bed. "How did Sirius die?"

Remus reached back for the armrests and lowered his thin frame into the chair. He hadn't been the one to tell Tonks about her cousin. Moody had sat with her earlier that day while Remus rested and her parents stepped out for a meal, and despite the Healers' admonitions that Tonks was in no condition for bad news, Moody had been unable to keep her in the dark about how the Order had come out of its first encounter with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

"I—I thought Moody told you," Remus said hoarsely.

"He said I didn't need to know details."

"I am not certain you do." He knew how her mind worked and how it would process the circumstances of Sirius' death. She wasn't ready to cope with that. She needed to devote her full energy to recovery.

"Remus."

Perhaps grief was affecting Remus' perception, but the inflection of Tonks' voice seemed particularly like Sirius. And her eyes – like her cousin, Tonks could be persuasive, even commanding, without really trying. Or was Remus merely easily manipulated by the cousins' assertive personalities?

Remus sighed with resignation as he let his gaze wander beyond Tonks and settle vaguely the view of London out the window. "He fell."

"How?" Her pale hands clutched and twisted the crisp, white linens of her bed. "Who _made_ him fall, Remus?"

His throat ached as he swallowed the hard lump that formed there. "Bellatrix."

Tonks' chest rose as she inhaled sharply. Her energies were devoted to healing, so her hair was its natural dull brown; it stuck out in some places, and other patches lay flat from being pressed against her pillows. Beneath it, her dark eyes looked disproportionate against her ashy pallor. The features combined to give her a waif-like appearance.

"After she hexed me."

Remus nodded slowly, watching the taut muscle in Tonks' cheek twitch as though her face were about to crumple inward on itself. The injured Auror sank deeper into her pillows, drew the bedclothes up under her chin, and turned her head toward the window. She seemed so small, with her body lost under blankets. Despite her strong-willed demands to hear the whole truth about Sirius, she seemed as young as Remus had begun to forget she was. Tonks was so competent that it was difficult to believe she had been an Auror for less than two years. It dawned on him now that this was likely the first time a comrade of hers had fallen during a mission. Remus would never forget what it had been to learn about James and Lily.

He braced himself for her tears, assuming that, since Tonks was typically demonstrative with her emotions, she would be a noisy crier, too. But Tonks made no sound. Not a wail. Not a sob. Not even a sniffle. Either he'd drawn a false conclusion about Tonks, or she wasn't crying.

Remus guessed the latter.

In situations such as this, he preferred silence, but this one felt uncomfortable. Tonks was a talker and had yet to utter so much as a word. How could he help her if he didn't know what she was thinking?

At last Remus could bear it no longer. "Are you all right?"

"Are _you_?" Tonks looked up at him with puffy, red-rimmed eyes; apart from that, her face showed no sign that she'd been crying. That she'd done so in such a quiet away, of which he'd not been aware, wrenched Remus – especially since some of her sorrow seemed to be for _his _sake.

He leant forward in his chair and reached for her hand. It was cold, so he wrapped both of his hands it and gently chafed her skin. "Right now I'm concerned about you. Sirius was your cousin."

Pulling her hand away, Tonks countered, "He was _your_ best mate." She would not answer his question until he answered hers.

Sighing, Remus relaxed against the back of his chair. "It's strange. Mostly I feel…closure."

Tonks' forehead crinkled between her eyebrows. "Closure?"

"I mourned Sirius a long time ago," Remus explained. "When he was convicted of murder, it was as if the friend I'd known had died."

"Because you thought he'd turned traitor?"

Remus nodded. Those years following Sirius' conviction had been horrible. With James and Peter gone, Remus had been left alone to think about the past and sort out when his mate had gone wrong, or worse – to wonder whether Sirius had always been playing a part. To see him again and learn that he was the Sirius he had always thought he was…

"Remus?" Tonks' gentle hand on his knee reminded Remus he was not alone to muse now. She needed answers, not to fulfil her curiosity, but to help her cope with loss.

"I can be more at peace with losing him now." As he covered her small hand with his larger one, his eyes misted. He blinked hard and smiled at Tonks. "I had a second chance with Sirius. Most people never get extra time."

"You would've had more time if I'd stopped Bellatrix."

With his free hand, Remus cupped Tonks' chin, drawing her to look at him. "This is nobody's fault – least of all yours."

"It _is _Bellatrix's fault." Her attempt at levity failed, and a strangled sob escaped her throat. Tonks screwed her eyes shut against her tears and clung to Remus as he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed soothing kisses to it. Regaining control of her voice, Tonks said, "I know Sirius wouldn't blame me, but if only I'd blocked that hex…"

"I think we all feel that way, when a colleague falls in battle," said Remus slowly. "Sirius was more than that to us. It makes the loss that much greater."

Tonks sniffled and looked a little surprised. "Do you feel like that?"

He did, and on entirely too many points – from not being at Tonks' side when she was duelling Bellatrix, to not being able to aid her when she lay wounded…His heart constricted as it did every time he envisioned the scene. He drew a deep breath and tried to sound calm. "Perhaps if I had been quicker to react, I could have helped Sirius. Harry would still have his godfather."

"Then I would have lost the man I—" She seemed to catch herself, and then continued in a half-whisper, more to herself than to him. "I would have lost you." But she abruptly broke her introspection with a press of his hand. "You just told me not to carry blame. Don't be the cauldron calling the kettle black."

"I'll try." Remus smiled softly at her earnestness. He was supposed to be comforting her, but in typical Tonks fashion, she kept directing the conversation back around to him. While he admired and appreciated her concern for others, he hoped she was not using that to avoid coping with her own pain.

"What did you think?" Tonks asked abruptly.

"What?" Remus blinked. Had he missed something?

"When you saw me fall. What went through your head?"

"I…" Her questions had a dizzying affect. She wanted to know what? Vivid as the images were in his mind, Remus had no recollection of conscious thought as he'd watched Tonks' body pitch down the rows of benches, then lie crumpled and lifeless on the floor. He'd had to focus on Harry. "There wasn't time."

Now Tonks looked perplexed. "For what?"

"To…to think. It happened so fast."

Tonks' face didn't hold a trace of a smile. Her mouth was a straight line, and her eyes were as dark and serious and steady as Remus had ever seen them. "Do you love me, Remus?"

She barely gave him time to process her words before she said, "It's not a trick question."

"I…"

"Mr. Lupin?" A lime green-robed healer swept into the room. "Visiting hours are over, Mr. Lupin. Time for your potion, Miss Tonks. How are those ribs feeling?"

As Remus swiftly rose, he hoped his face didn't register that he thought the Healer had arrived at a most opportune moment.

But Tonks caught him with an intense gaze – the rare, intimidating look she flashed older members of the Order to remind them that although she had pink hair and couldn't walk through an empty room without tripping, she was an Auror. "I expect an answer tomorrow."

* * *

Ambling through the park near St. Mungo's, Remus turned Tonks' question over and over in his mind. Did he love her? 

As she had pointed out, it wasn't a trick question. It wasn't the answer that was tripping him up. He'd never been surer of an answer in his life, save five signs for identifying werewolves on his Defence Against Dark Arts OWL.

Did he love Nymphadora Tonks? Yes. Absolutely, undeniably yes.

He had for a long time, though he was so unused to feeling such powerful emotions, much less putting names to them, that he had not recognised it before today. Even when Sirius had used the term _in love_, the notion had not been fully realised in Remus' mind. There had not been time before…

He couldn't tell her.

She knew the reasons why.

Of all the arguments Remus had against pursuing Tonks romantically, the difference in their ages was the one had not _actually_ worked into the equation. True, Tonks blundered about like an awkward adolescent, dressed like the rabble of Muggle London, and was perfectly in her element getting up to shenanigans with the Weasley children.

Yet she seemed equally at home among the Order; Tonks could be counted on to execute any mission brilliantly, and she was the only Auror with the brass to tease Moody about his paranoia. She filled as many roles as she could wear faces. Was it characteristic of all Metamorphmagi, or another example of Tonks' remarkable depth? And of course, there was the frankness with which she faced Remus' lycanthropy – although he had not yet decided whether her attitude was incredibly brave or wilfully naïve.

Today, however, the fourteen-year age gap had caught up with them. Remus' joints crackled, as though confirming the idea, as he sank onto a park bench. He was old, and Tonks was young. She was grappling with lessons and realities he'd learned in the last war – when she was still too young for Hogwarts – and it was painful to watch. It wasn't that Remus did not want to help her cope with grief; he just hated to see her in this position at all. And he wasn't sure what to do with the rest of Tonks' emotional upheaval that had nothing to do with Sirius.

Remus did not claim to understand the thought processes of females, but from what he made of the conversation, Tonks was as upset by the mere possibility that _he _could have fallen beyond the Veil as she was about Sirius actually doing so. He recalled her words: _I would have lost the wizard I—_ What had she left unsaid? Remus hardly dared to presume her heart, fearing both fulfilment and disappointment. But in light of her demand to know the depth of his feelings…

It could only be love.

He should have been beside himself that such good fortune could befall a run-down, impoverished werewolf. Certainly he was not unmoved; his heart pounded, his palms sweat, and his mouth was dry, as though he were seventeen and not thirty-seven. Overwhelmed was, perhaps, an apt description. Had the apothecary spilt _Felix Felicis_ into the most recent dose of Wolfsbane potion? It was the only accounting for this upward turn in Remus' luck. He laughed inwardly at the craziness of the notion. It was preposterous: imprecision of the apothecary aside, the luck potion came with a sense of confidence, even invincibility, and Remus had never dreamed himself capable of winning Tonks' love.

That their relationship had lasted this long exceeded his wildest expectations. He would never have asked her for that first date if he'd known this would happen. He'd been so sure Tonks would come to her senses about him before lasting feelings took root. Remus had never made a more incorrect prediction – and he'd performed abysmally in Divination.

He slumped forward on the bench, elbows digging into his knees, fingers raking through his hair. What, in the name of Godric Gryffindor, was he going to do?

Telling Tonks he loved her was out of the question. He would hurt her terribly by not answering in the affirmative, by not telling her the truth. Merlin's beard, the thought made him feel like a git – especially in light of his promise that he would not leave her.

The air fled his lungs. Dear God, what had possessed him to bind himself to something so thoroughly beyond his control? He heard Sirius' mocking tones, accusing him of fearing commitment. Perhaps he did, to an extent. But was it so wrong to acknowledge that worse battles than the one they'd just survived were certain to come; he could very well be the next member of the Order to fall.

Tonks was too young to suffer the loss of a love. Remus had seen how war affected couples. And while _he_ could cope with a broken heart, it would be irresponsible and completely selfish to risk Tonks'. She had never been broken. She was young and whole. He had failed Harry by not protecting Sirius; he would not fail Tonks.

The knell of a church bell chiming the hour drew Remus out from his musings. It was late. He was staying the night at the Burrow and had promised Molly he would arrive in time for supper. Of course Molly would want to know all about Tonks' recovery. Remus thought ruefully of how difficult it would be to keep the mother hen from detecting his mood. His bones cracked again as he rose from the bench and scanned the area for a private place from which to Disapparate. Spying a public loo, he made his halting way across the lawn.

His gaze drifted to the department store façade of St. Mungo's, up to the fourth floor window of Tonks' room. He would visit her tomorrow. Would it be the last time he spoke to her in private? Already his heart ached from missing the pink-haired witch he adored.

Yes – he loved Nymphadora Tonks, with every cell and fibre of his body, with the full capacity of his thoughts, with the very essence of his soul. He loved her more than life – which was why he had not said the words to her, and why he never could.

* * *

When Remus entered the reception area at St. Mungo's the following afternoon, he was startled to hear Tonks' chirpy "Wotcher, Remus." He turned swiftly and found to see her sitting on an upholstered bench to the right of the door, dressed in a t-shirt, aqua pyjama bottoms, and fuzzy slippers. Her hair was back to vivid fuchsia. 

"Are you sure you've got the energy for that?" Remus asked, gesturing to her hair.

She smirked as she tossed aside the magazine she had been reading and rose from the bench. "Lovely to see you, too."

"I mean you look wonderful. I am very glad to see you up and about again."

"The Healers said I could be up and about for a while if I was strong enough to hold a morph."

Remus had to smile. Tonks certainly knew how to get what she wanted – which frightened him considerably, in light of the fact that she wanted something from him now. She took his arm and steered him toward a set of glass doors that led to a small conservatory. As soon as they stepped into the sunny, plant-filled room, Tonks' hair faded to her natural dull brown.

Before Remus could question her, she said, "I need to save energy for that conversation we didn't finish yesterday."

"Tonks, if you are not up to it—"

"You're not getting out of it that easily." She plopped onto a wrought-iron chair beside a small, round table and looked up at him with an unreadable expression. The corners of her mouth were quirked in a slight grin, but her eyes were serious and guarded. "Now, where were we, Remus? Oh yeah – do you love me?If you say no, I'll know you're lying."

"Nymphadora…"

Her brow arched, and Remus sighed. He dragged the other chair around the table and set it at an angle to Tonks'. Though being in close proximity to the witch always did a number on Remus' willpower, they were not the only people in the conservatory; they needed to be able to face one another and yet have a degree of privacy.

As he seated himself and regarded Tonks' expectant expression, he was relieved he would not have to do something as wretched as say no – though saying yes without committing himself seemed equally dreadful.

Taking her hand, Remus asked, "Why do you need me to say it if you already know?"

"Remember what you said about not having closure?" Tonks sounded almost timid, and her eyes darted away from his as she continued, "I thought about…dying…and you being alone and not ever knowing I lo—"

"I would have known," Remus interrupted. It would be wrong to allow her to commit herself when he could not.

"No, you wouldn't." The odd smile returned as Tonks shook her head. "You still don't quite believe that I want to be with you. I'll have to say it a million times before you get it through that thick head of yours that I really and truly do." Her gaze clouded, seeming to turn inward, and she drew several deep breaths as though trying to steady her nerves. "If I'm to be left alone, I want you to have said it."

Though that was precisely the reason Remus had decided he could _not_ confess his love to Tonks, he couldn't deny that her argument made sense – or at least, part of him felt good to hear her side of it.

"Please, Remus," Tonks implored, lacing their fingers together and raising her other hand to touch his cheek. "It's not hard."

"It is not simple, either." Remus drew her hand down from his face, but did not let go. "This is war. We could—"

"I know. One battle, and one of us has already had a close shave. But will you say it?"

"I don't want your heart to break." He looked down at their hands and tried to release them, but Tonks' grip was firm.

"That could never break it."

She was looking at him with the same acceptance and courage with which she faced his lycanthropy. How he wanted to receive what she offered – but did she truly realise the enormity of it?

"Doesn't it frighten you," he asked, "to love when you could lose?"

"Has that stopped you from loving me?"

"No."

Tonks released his hands and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why would it be okay for you and not for me?"

"Because I'm old." It came out like a lame excuse and earned a caustic look.

"Have you read any Muggle poetry, Remus?" Tonks asked levelly.

"A little."

"Have you ever read the one that says, _Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all_?"

Remus nodded. He could see where she was going with this, but dared not argue.

"The poet—"

"Tennyson."

"—doesn't say anything about age."

"But the poem's just romantic—"

"Victorian, actually," said Tonks with a grin. She took his hand again. "Of course it scares me. So does being an Auror. And serving with the Order. I resigned myself a long time ago to scary things being my lot."

Remus arched a brow. "Including me?" He said it playfully, but he felt grim inside.

Tonks's face was Gryffindor red. "Bugger, that came out all wrong! I mean scary in the good way."

"I was not aware there was a good scary."

"This other Muggle poet – Arthur somebody, I remember because of Arthur Weasley – said, _Tis better to have fought and lost than never to have fought at all_." Her eyes were dark and intense. "You feel that way about the Order, don't you? You wouldn't be a part of this nutty thing if you didn't believe it was worth it, would you?"

"I do believe that," Remus admitted, though in doing so he knew he was losing ground. Why did she have to be so logical? Why did she have to be so wise, so…old? He felt like an ignorant pupil trying to argue with a seasoned schoolmaster. "Tonks, _I _am not worth—"

"Hush." Tonks pressed her fingers to his mouth. "You're the main reason why I want to win this war."

Merlin, she was so hopeful, so confident – so in love. With him. He kissed her fingers, and she smiled – triumphantly.

"You are a lunatic," Remus murmured.

"I'm _your_ lunatic." She grabbed Remus' hands and rose from her chair. "Now _tell me_, Remus."

She tugged on him until he stood, then slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him in anticipation. Remus felt her heartbeat, and his own pulse quickened. He reached up to caress her hair, and the strands blazed brightest pink under his fingertips. The sunlight pouring through the windows cast a glow about her. Tonks radiated love and joy, and he would not fight her anymore.

"I love you, Nymphadora."

Tonks' entire face smiled, and if it was possible, her hair, shining in the light, grew even pinker. But she didn't utter a word.

"Do you love me?" Remus asked, even though he already knew her answer, and his insides quaked at the realisation that he had known, for a long, long time.

Tonks opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyes were misty.

Holding her close, resting his cheek against her head, Remus teased, "It's not a trick question."

Laughing, Tonks squeezed him tighter. "You've just…" she said in a pinched, hoarse voice "…made me…so happy."

Remus fleetingly doubted whether she would be happy beyond this moment, but he banished the unwelcome thought. The one thing he knew for certain was that he would have been a complete and utter fool not to tell her he loved her.

And when Tonks at last found her voice, Remus realised that no ancient words cast a more powerful spell than _I love you, too_.

_The End_


End file.
